


Reunion

by Tantaylor



Category: Duran Duran
Genre: First Time, Flashbacks, Friends to Lovers, Love, M/M, Romance, talks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:48:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22803586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tantaylor/pseuds/Tantaylor
Summary: After Nick has told Simon that they found Roger, something is nagging at his brain
Relationships: Simon Le Bon/Roger Taylor (Duran Duran)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> Story takes place in 2000 with flashbacks to the early 80s.
> 
> English is not my mother tongue, no beta.  
> Feedback welcome

London, Putney, July 2000

“We found him.”  
Those three words made Simon whoop.  
Goodness, where had this man been hiding all those years?  
“Warwickshire” Nick said as if he`d read his mind.  
Simon stared at the phone for a while, wondering how his friend always seemed to know exactly what`s going on in his head.  
“So, have you seen him? How is he? How`s Gio? Is he in for our plan?”  
“Whoa, Charlie, slow down. Yeah, John and I drove over. You should have seen his face. I wish I had the cam with me, it was…he was beaming all over, Simon. John wouldn't let go of him. They were both crying, it was so sweet.”

“I can imagine! So, he`s in?”  
“He said he needs some time to overthink it. He just went through a very unpleasant breakup.”  
“Oh, no! They broke up, he and Gio?”  
“Not Gio. I mean, well, they did, breakup, obviously, but years ago. Cameron.”  
“Huh?”  
“The guy he broke up with. Cameron.”  
It took Simon several minutes to process this information.  
“Charlie? You still there?”  
“Were you telling me…did I hear *Cameron*?”  
“That`s what I said.”  
“Oh. That`s…well…unexpected.”  
“I know, right? He's changed, Simon. In a good way, though. There`s nothing left of that shy boy he was. I have rarely seen anyone so self- confident.”  
Said one of the most confident men on the planet. Then it had to mean something.  
“You know what, Charlie? Why don't you go there yourself, have a drink and have a man-to-man talk? Show him you have no problem with him being gay.”  
“Does he think I have a problem with that? Why the hell would he think that?”  
“He doesn't think that, Simon, I think that.”  
“Come on, Nick! I have no problem with gays!”  
“If you say so.”  
“What the hell is that supposed to mean, Nicholas?”  
“Never mind. So, will you drive over?”  
“I sure will.”  
Charlie felt a wee bit confused when he hung up a while later.  
Nick's behaviour was odd, wasn't it?  
But then, yeah, thinking of Roger as gay was, too.  
Weird.

Some annoying little animal seemed to nibble at his subconscious mind since the phone call with Nick, something that wanted to chew its way into his consciousness.  
He had had a headache for days, which could also be due to the considerable amounts of alcohol. Simon had never been a drinker. Not that he didn't like to get drunk now and then, but never for the sake of being drunk. Sitting at home alone and emptying his whisky stocks was something new.  
The best, most expensive bottle he had in his backpack, together with two bars of dark chocolate.  
Whisky and chocolate were a good team.  
Although maybe it was kind of weird bringing chocolate to a guy, right?  
Simon had to laugh at himself. Le Bon, you're a fucking macho man!  
He got off his beloved bike and glanced at the house.  
So this is where he lived. Much too big for one man alone. He must have been lonely as fuck.  
Maybe he should have called before he got here, but for some reason he couldn`t find the nerve. That alone was annoying as hell, wasn`t it? Why would he be afraid to call an old friend?  
But then, he never called him. In 15 years, he never called him. And why did he ask John and Nick to search for him instead of using his own connections to find the drummer?  
Simon took off his helmet and combed his fingers through the flattened hair.  
Goodness, he was nervous. And he downright hated that. Simon Le Bon was never nervous.  
He might have some stage fright before performances, but he was never nervous. He was an alpha male. Confident on the edge of arrogance. Loud, dominant.  
That his legs were so shaky had to be because of the long journey. He should ride his motorcycle more often.

He was about to ring the bell when the door opened.  
“Charles.”  
That one word, the name no one ever used, no one but Roger, was all it took to throw Simon back into 1981.

September 16th, Long Island, USA, 1981

“Charles, please! Open the door!”  
“Fuck off, Roger!”  
Simon was a mess. A shaky, panicking mess. He had just thrown up all over himself.  
No one should see him like this. Nobody from his band and especially not the little, unbearably gentle Roger, who was too shy to open his mouth. He was the one who should be throwing up from fear, not Simon.  
The cheeky, brazen, self-confident Simon.  
“I'll break the door down if you don't open it!”  
Very funny! As if the little nipper could break down the door.  
Simon coiled into a ball in one corner of his shabby hotel room, almost throwing up again from his own disgusting smell, but he was shaking too much to get up.  
This was fucking America. It wasn`t the Rumrunner. It wasn`t England, where everyone loved them.  
Fucking America.  
What if he failed? What if the audience booed them?  
He would forget his own lyrics; he would not hit a single note.  
His desperate whimpering was drowned out by the sound of splintering wood and he found himself in two strong arms in a split second.  
Fuck his pride.  
“I can’t. I can't do this,” He sobbed, clinging to the warm, firm body as if his life depended on it.  
Roger didn't say anything, just held him tight until the shaking stopped.  
Shame overtook Simon. Goodness, he'd thrown up all over himself, he cried like a little girl.  
“I... let go of me, I'm… It's disgusting.”  
“Nothing about you is disgusting, Charles. Are you okay?”  
“Do I look like I'm okay?” Simon snorted. “Shit, man, I... What are you doing?”  
“I undress you.”  
“Are you a fag or what?”  
“Shut the fuck up, Charles. You need to take a shower.”  
“Oh, God!” Simon had himself undressed as if he were a doll, eyes firmly closed.  
“Can you get up? I'm not sure I can carry you.”  
“We have to cancel the concert!”  
“The hell we do! Calm down. Look at me, Charles!”  
There were these eyes, these soft, brown eyes….

Warwickshire, July 2000  
Eyes. Soft, brown eyes.  
Simon blinked.  
“Roger.”  
Wow, that flashback was intense, but it could have lasted only fractions of a second.  
He refused to pursue this memory further.  
“I should have called, but…”  
“Come in, I'm happy to see you.”  
If he was, why didn't he sound like that?  
Roger led him into a bright, spacious living room.  
No hugging, not even a handshake.  
“I was wondering when you were going to show up here, Charles. Sit down. Can I get you something?”  
“I brought Whisky. A bit of tap water would be nice.”  
Roger nodded and disappeared.  
Man, something was fucking irritating about this.  
He dropped on the comfy sofa, looking around curiously.  
A huge black and white poster caught his eye, making him grin like some retarded idiot.  
Duran Duran, Rumrunner days. God, those military fantasy outfits were ridiculous!  
His grin froze when he saw the photo close to it. Roger. Roger kissing a man. A tall, fucking handsome man.

Long Island, September 16th, 1981  
“Look at me, Charles! You can do this. You're a great singer and you're gonna rock. We're gonna rock, you hear me?”  
“I want to go home.”  
“No, you don't. You want to become the most famous singer ever in the greatest band ever, and that's exactly what you will become!” Roger pulled him up and dragged him into the tiny bathroom. It couldn't have been more embarrassing, with him naked and smelling of puke.  
The drummer turned on the water and started to undress as well.  
Simon was too exhausted to make a stupid comment. Anyway, he was hardly in a position to make stupid remarks.  
“Kneel in the shower tub” Roger commanded gently.  
“Why?”  
“Cause you're a fucking giant and I can't get a good grasp on your shoulders when you stand. Jesus, Simon, for once can you just do as you're told?”  
It was this gentleness that made him obey.  
Roger, shy little Roger, was cool as a cucumber. He exuded an imperturbable calm.  
The warm water felt good, and Si almost purred as strong hands began to massage his cramped shoulders.  
“Rog?”  
“Hm?”  
“Please don't tell anyone.”  
“I wouldn't destroy your reputation as a big-mouthed front man for anything in the world, Charles. Now cut the chatter and relax. Hand me the shampoo, please.”  
The shoulder massage had been nice, but the strong fingers on his scalp made him groan with pleasure.  
It was strange. He felt safe. Protected. And there was something else...

Warwickshire, July 2000  
“Are you dreaming, Simon?”  
“Huh? Oh. I was…is that Cameron?”  
“Yeah. I should finally take this down, but... I don't know. That's what makes it so definitive. I'm just not ready, I guess. So, where`s the whisky?”  
His small smile was so full of sadness that it hit Simon right in the heart.  
“I know what it's like. Yasmin's perfume is still in the bathroom. For a year now.”  
“I am sorry, Charlie. I thought you two were forever.”  
“I thought the same of Gio and you.”  
“You know, I've had to admit at one point that I prefer tall men to tiny women. Could we open your whisky before we continue this conversation?” Roger didn't sit next to him, but opposite him in an armchair.  
Simon took the bottle out of his backpack and generously filled the glasses Roger had brought along.  
“Do you have a guest room? I'm not going back to London. I'm thinking of emptying this bottle with you.”  
“Like I'd let you drive drunk, Simon John Charles! Slainte!”  
“Slainte, Roger Andrew.”  
“So you really want to do this, huh? A reunion. I swear, I almost dropped dead when Nick and Nigel showed up.”  
Yes. And he was all smiles and hugs and cries to John. Not so fucking distant, Simon thought and swallowed down the bitter taste of jealousy.  
“Us, Roger. It`s an us, not a you, because it won`t be a reunion without you.”  
“I don't know if I want to come back, Simon.”  
Wow. That felt like he just got a fist rammed into his stomach.  
“Because of Cameron? I know breaking up hurts like hell, but don't you think it would help? A fresh start, so to speak.”  
“This has nothing to do with Cameron. Top up, please.”  
“Are you trying to get drunk in the blink of an eye?”  
“I'm just trying not to freak out, Charles. Took me so long to admit to myself that I'm gay, I'm not gonna bullshit myself again. Ever again.”  
“Who's asking you to do that? Fuck, it's the year 2000. No gay man need to hide anymore.”  
“Even in the year 2000 nine out of ten men are straight. And if the one gay man is attracted to one of the nine non-gay men, it can't work out in the long run. Would you agree with me on that, Charles? I just lost someone I loved, and I'm certainly not about to jump into another drama. Pure self-protection.”  
“Come on, Roger, don't be so fucking dramatic! There are plenty of gay men out there.”  
“Are you even listening to me, Simon? Do you understand anything I'm saying? You know what? It was a mistake to let you in. I should have known. The moment you walked in the door and I didn't even dare hug you, I should have known. I'm such an idiot. You should go. You haven't finished your drink. You can still drive.”  
“Seriously? You're throwing me out? We meet for the first time in over a decade and you kick me out?” Simon`s temper took over as he jumped up and grabbed the collar of Roger`s shirt, yanking him out of the chair.  
He didn`t even blink.  
“What now, Le Bon? You gonna punch me in the face? Go ahead. Go on being the big-mouthed asshole you've been pretending to be for years. I know your other side, Charles. The side that scares the shit out of you.”

Long Island, September 16th , 1981  
Simon leaned against the warm body behind him and enjoyed having his hair washed. It was so nice to be cared for.  
“Gosh, Charles, how many tons of hairspray have you used?” Roger's soft laugh sounded beautiful, almost tender.  
“Said the bloke with the Elvis-quiff” he chuckled, leaning even more against the drummer.  
“You're about to knock me down, big guy.”  
“Rog?”  
“Yes, Charlie?”  
“Thanks a lot.”  
“Do you feel better?”  
Simon turned his head to say yes and promptly stuck his nose in curly pubic hair.  
When trying to back away, said nose slammed against the tile wall. That shower stall was narrow.  
He giggled hysterically.  
“Fuck, man! I had my nose in your curls.”  
“Oh, my God, Charles! You're gonna die, for sure.”  
“Definitely! With a broken nose and a black hair in the nostril.”  
“Let me see.”  
“ If there`s a hair?”  
“If your nose is broken, you idiot. You can't sing tonight with a broken nose.”  
The panic came back in a split second, with all its force.  
“I don't want to sing, Roger! I'll fail! I`m not good enough!”  
Roger was with him on the wet shower floor in no time.  
He pulled Simon's head to his broad chest and gently stroked his hair.  
“You must never think that, Simon! You are a genius A poet. You're perfect You'll show them. They're gonna love you, Charlie. Everyone loves you. Everybody, Charlie, you hear?”  
And then, just like that, their lips met. Simon melted against Roger`s body, parted his lips to let his tongue in. Even though his dick got hard, it wasn't about sex.  
Roger calmed him down, loved him. Made him strong.  
And he did it for years. Whenever Simon panicked, he was there, holding him. Told him how great he was. Over time, Simon's panic attacks before performances subsided. Eventually, they were gone. And then Roger was gone too.

Warwickshire, July 2000  
“You loved me!” The realization shook him to the bone.  
“I did, you idiot. And I`m afraid it will happen again. This will be worse than the first time, because now I can admit it, Simon. I'm a gay man and I' m attracted to tall men with blue eyes .Will you please let go of me and get out of here? I think I've humiliated myself enough now.”  
“I won't go, Roger. Not until we sort this out.”  
“There's nothing to sort out. I'm gay and you're not. I am sorry. You're gonna have to find yourself another drummer.”  
“You think I care about this fucking reunion? This is about you and me, damn it!”  
“There is no you and me. There hasn't been a you and me in over ten years, why should that change now?”  
“Because I've been drinking too much whisky for days, thinking of you. Because I could hardly walk when I got off the bike, my legs were so weak. Because it fucking pisses me off to see this fucking picture of this stupid guy kissing you. Because I'm fucking jealous of John, who made you cry with joy when you saw him again. Who you hugged and wouldn't let go. Because there's an annoying little animal sitting in my head, eating my brain.”  
“You have an animal in your head?”  
“A totally annoying little rodent.”  
“I guess this is a grossly uncomfortable escalation to chopsticks.”  
The singer couldn`t help but grin, and Roger grinned back before both of them broke out in laughter.  
“Has anyone ever told you that you're completely crazy?” Roger plopped on the chair and reached for the whisky with one hand, wiping away the tears of laughter with the back of the other.  
Simon pondered for just a tiny moment before kneeling in front of Roger's chair and putting his head in the man`s lap.  
“What the hell are you doing, Charlie?”  
“I have no idea. I just wanted this.”  
“Maybe that's not what I want. Maybe you're getting too close to me right now.”  
“Please help me. Can you be strong for me one more time, Roger? Please. I know it sounds totally stupid, but I need to find out  
I need to find out if I'm just freaking out or if... Damn it, Roger, you're doing something to me. I've really been thinking about you ever since Nick called. And he was kind of weird, Nick. He said he thought I had a problem with you being gay. And he really wanted me to come here. I sometimes feel like he knows me better than I know myself. I think he knows. He knows I have feelings for you. There's something, Roger, and it's driving me crazy. Please. Let me find out what it is. I want... I've never had sex with a man I don't know if I like it, but I obviously like you. I like you a lot. Will you show it to me?”  
“All right, I believe you.”  
“What?”  
“I believe you that there is a nasty little rodent sitting in your head, eating your brain. There's no other way to explain this incredible bullshit. Seriously, Simon, did you just ask me to show you gay sex? Bloody hell, man, who do you think you are? How much more do you want me to make a fool of myself? What…Simon! Stop it.”  
Simon had pressed his palm against the bulge in Roger's jeans and rubbed.  
“You're hard.”  
“Of course I'm hard, you moron. I'm gay, I fancy you, you have your fucking head in my lap and you breathe on me. Would you please stop that now?”  
Simon backed off, looking up at Roger.  
“If it' s hard because you' re gay, then no doubt I' m gay too, following your logic. You misunderstood me. I can't stop thinking about Long Island. Do you remember? Back when I was puking my guts out? You broke the fucking door. Anyone else would have puked in disgust right next in line. Not you. You held me close. In my smelly, disgusting clothes. God, I was so ashamed! But it didn't bother you at all. I was completely panicked, but you... I've never been so close to anyone in my life. I was safe with you, Roger. I couldn't... I don't know. I didn't have to be Simon, the frontman. I was…well, Charles. Just Charles, with all my fears and well -hidden uncertainties. You've always held me. And I need to know if there's more, Roger. How can I find out if we don't try? Whenever you held me, it was about these panic attacks. It was always just about calming me down. Except for that first time in the shower. That was incredibly erotic, at least between my freak-outs. You were so unbelievably caring.”  
"Get up, Simon.”  
“No, please! Don't throw me out.”  
“I'm not throwing you out. Jesus Christ, I can't believe I'm doing this. Bring the glasses, I'll take the bottle. Follow me.”  
“What? Where to?”  
“To my bedroom. Upstairs. You want to try, so let's try.”  
On quite wobbly legs, Simon climbed up the stairs behind him, almost dropping the glasses as he did so. That was something completely new. Not just because Roger was a man. Maybe mainly because for the first time, it wasn't Simon who took the lead.  
Roger took the glasses from his trembling hands and put them beside the whiskey bottle on the nightstand before he switched on the little lambs on both sides of the bed.  
Charlie just stood there shaking like a leaf and feeling helpless. It felt almost like a panic attack.  
And when Roger took him into his arms, pulling him close, it was like back then for a moment. It's like going back in time exactly up to the second when amazingly soft lips lay on his.  
He jerked back, staring down in Roger`s mahogany eyes.  
“Not good?” Roger asked quietly, a hint of fear in his voice.  
“Your lips are very soft.” Fascinated, Simon stroked his thumb over the gentle, soft curves of these lips. “And you smell nice.” He buried is nose in the dark hair, inhaling deep. He wanted to explore all this. The differences. The similarities. His lips searched for Roger's and he reached into the thick hair with one hand, combed it with his fingers.  
“Still rocking the Elvis-quiff” he whispered in his mouth. “Suits you.”  
Roger's tongue fluttered gently against his lips, asking to be let in, and Charlie let him. Fingers curled around the back of his neck, massaging with just the right pressure. Simon liked a firm grip.  
And he liked to grasp things tightly himself.  
His hands wandered across the broad, strong back, feeling muscles and the hard bumps of Roger's spine. Warm and solid, considerably more muscular than in the old days.  
Roger moaned softly, the bulge in his jeans rubbing against Simon's thigh. It was like he could feel the heat through their pants.  
God, that felt good! He clutched Rogers' butt with both hands, kneaded the taut globes.  
He was so engrossed in this kiss that it felt strangely empty as Roger pulled back.  
“Keep going, please! It's great to kiss you.”  
“Too many clothes, Simon! I want to strip you, may I?” He didn`t wait for an answer, started to unbutton Simon`s shirt. His hands were trembling a wee bit and it took him quite a while to finish, but finally he pushed the fabric off the taller man`s shoulders, exposing his upper body.  
Charlie held his breath when Roger dropped down to his knees, reaching for the belt buckle.  
As soon as Roger had pulled down is jeans in one swift move, his cock sprung free.  
“Oh, so for once it wasn`t just for the fabulous frontman show in Sing blue silver, when you said Simon Le Bon wears no underwear.”  
“Yellow.”  
“Huh?”  
“I said, I wear yellow underwear.”  
“Well, I`m glad you don`t. Yellow doesn't suit you. Shouldn't you wear leather? You're here on the bike.”  
“Too warm. Would you like that?”  
“You wearing leather? Definitely. Although you wouldn't wear it for long.” He bent for Charlie`s sneakers and socks.  
“Step out.”  
He did, and as he did, Roger got up and stepped back.  
“Let me look at you, Simon Le Bon. God, you are stunning. You really are!”  
Si blushed at the praise, because of its almost shattering honesty. Roger hid nothing. He didn't put on a show, didn't try to be sexy and seductive, come hell or high water. And that's what made him so fucking sexy and seductive. Suddenly he couldn't wait to see the man naked as well, but Roger stepped even more back when he reached for him, almost hitting the wall.  
“What? I can't touch you? I want to undress you too, Rog."  
“Let me do that, Simon, yeah?”  
“Why can't I do that?”  
“You must always have your way, right? But not now. It's my way now, Charles. And you know why? I desire you. You drive me crazy. I've had a hard-on since I saw you get off your bike through the window. You know how many times I've played dirty little Simon porn in my head? And now here you are, in my bedroom, naked. Six feet of divinely naked manhood. If you undress me now, if you touch me now, I'll come in my pants. So, please, Simon, give me a break and let me handle this, all right?”  
A strange noise escaped from Si`s throat. Roger's words nearly killed him, they hit him so hard.  
Did this man have the slightest idea how incredibly hot he was, with that merciless honesty and those soft brown eyes and those magnificent lips?  
The man was one confusing, fantastic contradiction.  
Small and strong.  
Gentle but determined  
Muscles so hard and lips so soft.  
The things he said both touching and incredibly horny in one.  
Although many women had already said similar things, this was something completely different. Roger didn't say that because he wanted to impress the front man.  
Roger said it because he was honest with Charles, though he was certainly scared shitless. Even though he had to fear being rejected. Fear that Simon wouldn't like it. Fear of just being used because stupid Simon Le Bon once wanted to know what sex with men would be like.  
“Then undress for me, Roger. Let me see how much you've changed. You feel more muscular, stronger. Let me see how that looks.”  
Roger kept his eyes on him the whole time, sought confirmation. Or perhaps also rejection or dislike.  
Something he would certainly not find in Simon's eyes, rejection and dislike. Because Si liked what he saw very much.  
“You've gotten much hairier. Oh, except...”  
“Shaved. You know, I knew a guy once who was so scared he almost broke his nose when he accidentally put it in my pubic hair. So I thought it might be safer that way. You can't get hair in your nostrils. Or in your mouth.”  
“This is certainly extremely helpful,” he grinning, fighting the urgent need to touch him right there, to feel the hairless skin under his fingers and his tongue.  
Roger looked exactly how he felt.  
“That's a lot of muscle.”  
“Three kids keep you on your toes. But who do I tell? Are they with you often?”  
“Three? You have three kids? I did not know that. Fuck, Roger! I know nothing about you! About your life.”  
“Well, how could you?”  
“Do they know? That you`re gay?”  
“I lived with a man for three years, I don't think they would have missed that, Simon. Be a dear and pour us another whisky, will you? We should get more comfortable.”  
So they sat side by side in bed, leaning against the headboard, Simon's arm around Roger's shoulder and Roger's arm around Simon's waist, talking about children, wives, painful separations, because catching up with each other’s lives became somehow more important than sex.  
And although Simon didn't really want to know anything about this one person, he finally asked.  
“How did you meet Cameron?”  
“At a school fair. He recognized me and asked me if I wanted to play in his band. He was the bass player. Still is, I guess. I didn't participate for long, it was kind of boring. No own songs, always the same cover versions. Not particularly challenging. Sarah was great, the singer. You'd like her.”  
“How did you become a couple?”  
“You really want to know?”  
“I want to know as much as possible about you.”  
“ We went to a pub after some jamming, I told them that I no longer felt like playing with them. Cameron gave me a ride home and we ended up in the bedroom.”  
“Was he…was he your first?”  
“He became my first boyfriend, Charlie. He wasn't my first man.”  
“Who was your first, then?”  
“I don't remember the name. He was a stage technician on the Rio Tour.”  
“The Rio Tour? Are you kidding? That was 1982.”  
“Exactly. It was after the last show. Los Angeles. In July.”  
“I don't believe it! You fucked a man on the Rio Tour in 1982?”  
“What exactly don't you believe?”  
“So early! You knew so early, and yet you married Giovanna. Why?”  
“It was just sex, Simon. I wasn't in love or anything. At least, that's what I kept telling myself. That it's just sex. Fucking good sex.”  
“And did you have a lot of sex?”  
“When we were on tour, yes. Quite a lot.”  
“So we all thought shy little Roger was going to bed early and instead you were fucking around?”  
“Good cover, huh? When Gio and I decided to have kids, I knew I had to stop.”  
“Roger! Are you telling me you left the band so you wouldn't fuck men anymore?”  
“That was one of the reasons, yes.”  
“Honestly, I would love to put you over my knee and spank your adorable little ass, Roger Taylor! You left the band because you couldn't admit to yourself that you were gay? I hope at least that worked!”  
“Well, considering I'm lying here naked in bed with you, it obviously didn't work, did it? Did you just say I have an adorable ass?”  
“No shit, Roger, you know how angry that makes me? You fucked us all! You fucked me!”  
“I'd certainly remember that, Charlie. That was another reason, you know? God, I wanted to fuck you. I wanted you to fuck me. And you brought in model after model…”  
“Do not blame me for your own cowardice! I wasn't running away from myself, Roger!”  
“Are you blaming me for making my own decisions for my own life? That`s hypocrite, Charles!”  
God, Simon was angry. Angry, jealous and still horny.  
This time, the grip in Roger's hair was not gentle, and their lips crashed painfully together, both of them fighting for dominance. That wasn't kissing, that was fighting. There was something animalistic about it, how they licked, bit and pinch, how each tried to force the other into submission. Eventually it was Simon who was under Roger, his wrists in a firm grip.  
“Get off me!”  
“I have other plans.”  
Charlie gasped as Roger bent for one of his nipples, sucking hard. Then he did the same with the other one, sometimes tenderly nibbling, sometimes sucking so hard that it almost hurt.  
“Roger! Fuck! Don't stop. Oh, God, please don't stop.”  
Grinning, he raised his head. Dark, almost black eyes flashed at Simon.  
Charlie wondered where that gentle person who had been sitting next to him just a few minutes before had disappeared to.  
“I haven't even started yet, Simon,” he growled. “I'm gonna let go of your hands now. Behave yourself!”  
He could only lie there panting and was fascinated by this incredible transformation. Roger kissed, licked and bit his way across Simon's chest, his stomach, Charlie almost came when the hot tip of his tongue pierced his slit.  
“Fuck!”  
“Right. I fuck you. I fuck your pretty cock with my tongue. Do you like that, Charles?”  
“I'll come in three seconds, you fucking demon.”  
“No, you won`t!”  
Roger squeezed the root of his penis with thumb and forefinger and continued tongue-fucking his slit  
Simon had never cried during sex before, now he did.  
It was just so much. So strange. So new. No one had ever touched him like that. No one had ever stuck their tongue in his dick. The firm grip around his cock kept him from coming and that was torture and pleasure in equal measure.  
“Roger. God, Roger!” he sobbed. Could you faint from lust? Anyway, for Simon, it felt like this is exactly what was about to happen.  
Just in that second, when he thought he was going to pass out, Roger loosened the grip and started to wank fast and hard.  
“Now you will come.”  
Obeying had never felt so good. He let go with a scream.  
Roger held his trembling body until he had calmed down.  
All that softness was back when he stroked his cheek.  
“Are you okay, Charles?”  
“Who the fuck was that? This black-eyed, nasty, brilliant sex demon, who was it? “ Si panted.  
“It`s all me, Charles. Although, nobody ever called me a sex demon. Do I take that as a compliment?”  
“Don't act so innocent. You can't fool me. Not anymore. Kiss me, stranger.”  
While they kissed, Simon`s hand went down to Roger`s cock, fingers tracing the thick veins of the shaft. He broke the kiss, because he needed to look at what he was touching. It was a whole lot different than touching his own dick.  
“I never... How do you like it?”  
“Just do what feels right for you.”  
Simon was extremely grateful that Roger had first taken care of his lust, because .this way he could feel and enjoy, take his time in exploring new territory.  
Roger gasped in surprise as he licked over his swollen tip.  
“You don't have to do this.”  
“Didn't you just tell me to do what feels right for me? I want to taste you. I made this dick famous, now I want to know everything about it. How it feels, how it tastes.”  
Roger chuckled quietly and moaned when Charlie took the crown in his mouth, sucking carefully. That was all he dared to do for now, but he knew now that one day he would put it all the way down his throat. Just a matter of practice. And he was going to practice a lot.


End file.
